


Pointer

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 01:19:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13671270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis finds a more efficient way to wring a quickie out of Gladiolus.





	Pointer

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Fill for anon’s “while making out with him, any reaches back into Gladio's pants and starts fingering him +they're mostly dressed, with Gladio's pants pushed down only just enough to make room” prompt on [the FFXV kinkmeme](https://ffxv-kinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/4747.html?thread=8948107#cmt8948107).
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s a reason Gladiolus and Ignis always take opposite seats, besides just protecting Noctis, and that reason is primarily Gladiolus’ fault. Ignis could manage well enough if Gladiolus took the passenger seat—despite the intensity of the temptation, Ignis is quite sure his driving would remain just as steady, his eyes still on the road. But Gladiolus would likely stare at him the entire time, maybe even drop a meaty hand atop his thigh, _maybe_ even slip down between Ignis’ legs and inevitably cause an accident.

But when Prompto successful manages to drag Noctis—and, suspiciously enough, _only_ Noctis—off for a special photoshoot, it seems silly for Gladiolus and Ignis to remain apart. Before Gladiolus can join him in the front seat, Ignis climbs out of the car and walks to the back. At least that way, they won’t be knocking into the pedals and steering wheel. He slides smoothly onto Noctis’ usual seat, and Gladiolus lowers his book, grinning like a cat with cream.

The book is tucked away in a heartbeat, and Gladiolus is across he spacious back, flattening Ignis into the locked door. Ignis thought of putting the hood up for just this reason—so that if Noctis and Prompto return early, they won’t be scarred by witnessing _everything_. But then, even though they’re in a relatively safe area, it’s best to keep everyone within earshot. So the roof is down, and if Noctis should happen to call for them, Gladiolus and Ignis will certainly break apart and hit the ground running.

In the absence of that commotion, Gladiolus slips one massive arm around Ignis’ slender waist, drawing it into his hard chest, and Ignis flattens against all of Gladiolus’ bulging muscles. There’s another bulge already forming that presses insistently against his hip—they have to shuffle awkwardly to manage cramming as close together as possible. Then Gladiolus’ other hand is in Ignis’ hair, and they’re making out like the teenagers they haven’t been in years.

Now, times where they do _this_ are too far and few between. Gladiolus kisses fiercer for it, grinding into Ignis with an almost feral ferocity. Gladiolus’ tongue is demanding, his mouth insistent, his grip tight on Ignis’ body. Ignis meets it with equal interest, with matching ardour and _hunger_ —it can be quite difficult, at times, to be on the road with such a handsome boyfriend, yet have so little opportunity to indulge. Gladiolus’ open jacket is a constant torture, his washboard abs always on display, whether made a delicious golden brown in the high sun or glistening tantalizingly in the open moonlight. Feeling that rugged six-pack rub against him stirs Ignis’ crotch, despite his best efforts to the contrary. He tells himself they don’t have _time_ for that. And he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to have to spend the remainder of he day’s drive with his pants glued to skin and a suspicious aroma in the air. He wouldn’t be able to look Noctis or Prompto in the eye afterwards. But Gladiolus seems to have no such qualms. He kisses Ignis with abandon and chews at Ignis’ bottom lip like he’s going to swallow Ignis whole.

Gladiolus probably will come. And Ignis will let him, because, despite what many others might think, he loves his boyfriend more than he loves propriety. He thinks of sliding his hand inside Gladiolus’ boxers, of fondling his throbbing cock and maybe even daring to lick away the remains, but that wouldn’t do. Touching Gladiolus’ dick—so _thick_ and _huge_ —always Ignis him going. If he feels that warm shaft pulsing against his palm, he’ll grow harder than a rock. That only leaves one option.

As Gladiolus sucks expertly on his tongue, Ignis pulls one glove off between them. He lifts the bare hand up to their mouths, and Gladiolus pauses to easily divert to Ignis’ long fingers. Gladiolus’ broad tongue laps over them without question. But then, he probably thinks he’s going to get a hand job. Ignis thrusts two fingers into Gladiolus’ mouth and kisses the corner of Gladiolus’ lips as he soaks his hand. The second he withdraws them, Gladiolus is on his mouth again.

Ignis continues the lewd kissing as he wraps around Gladiolus’ waist. He dips the wet hand beneath Gladiolus’ jacket and splays over his tailbone, then slides right down to the large, taut cheeks of Gladiolus’ ass. Gladiolus pauses to groan into his mouth, and Ignis grazes right along the shallow cleft, taking liberties along the way to stroke and squeeze. Gladiolus has always had a great ass. In a way, it’s only slightly less dangerous than his cock. But that slight margin will hopefully be enough. Ignis rubs at Gladiolus’ privates until he finds the tiny, puckered hole he’s looking for, and then he rubs twice as hard, coating it up in Gladiolus’ own spit. Gladiolus cups Ignis’ cheek and only kisses him harder. 

Technically, they haven’t done this before. Not just for fingering, anyway, without the promise of a very thorough fucking. And Ignis, more often than not, is the one to take Gladiolus’ meaty fingers before spreading wide for Gladiolus’ mammoth cock. But Gladiolus makes no protest to Ignis’ ministrations. He just drops his hand from Ignis’ waist to Ignis’ rear, and he squeezes and kneads in time with their rocking hips. Ignis dizzily fights through the lust it fills him with and focuses on his task: getting Gladiolus off.

And, quite possibly, himself in the process. No matter how hard he tries to resist. Gladiolus’ ass is just such a work of art. It’s hard to remember that he isn’t just worshipping it; he’s got a purpose. He coaxes Gladiolus’ furrowed entrance open just enough to poke inside—one long, thin, blunt digit that will have to be enough. Gladiolus grunts and drags his tongue over Ignis’ teeth. Ignis wriggles deeper, one bit at a time.

Gladiolus’ ass is just as tight as it looks, just as tight as Ignis remembers. It always gripped his cock so hard that it was almost difficult to thrust against, but it’s just as fierce around his single finger. It’s also incredibly _hot_ , in both senses of the word. It stifles him, and it takes a few seconds to find his bearings.

Then he’s curling in to stroke Gladiolus’ walls, velvet-soft, and Gladiolus moans loudly and bucks forward. The bulbous outline of his cock is incredibly evident against his dark pants. Ignis tries not to think about that. He tries to just enjoy the moment in a vague, non-intoxicating way.

It’s extremely difficult. His hand starts moving of its own accord, and before he knows it, he’s fucking Gladiolus with his finger, thrusting as deeply in as he can go before withdrawing and wriggling about. Gladiolus squirms and all but whimpers into his mouth. He rides Ignis’ hand better than ignis would’ve thought. He makes a mental note to remember that information: Gladiolus definitely _likes_ having his ass played with.

Ignis obliges. He uses both Gladiolus’ mouth and channel, getting more and more into it and trying harder and harder not to, while Gladiolus all but ravages him in return. But Ignis manages. He maintains his distance. He handles Gladiolus’ extremely virile sex drive. And soon enough, he’s grinding into a certain spot that has Gladiolus roaring into Ignis’ mouth and coming inside his own pants. Ignis can hear the faint squelching sounds over their constant shuffling and sliding and the wet smack of their lips. He can also smell it, even feel the wet patch growing. He milks Gladiolus’ prostate right through the orgasm, knowing he’s found it, and Gladiolus twitches gratefully when he’s done.

When there’s nothing left, Gladiolus slumps against him. The train of kiss finally comes to its end. Ignis misses them. But he absently strokes Gladiolus’ hair 

And eventually, Gladiolus mutters, “Your turn.”

Ignis would protest, but he doesn’t have to—over Gladiolus’ shoulder, he can see Noctis and Prompto coming up the hill. He disentangles from his boyfriend and heads back to the driver’s seat, shaken and unsatisfied.

But in the driver’s mirror, he can see just how _wrecked_ he’s left Gladiolus, so it’s more than worth it.


End file.
